Puppies!#@%:)

Cute. Snuggly. Roly-poly balls of love. Sure… and royal pains in the ass. I recently made the retrospectively taking-leave-of-my-senses decision to enroll our family as a foster home for our fabulous local rescue, Laramie Animal Welfare Society. To our menagerie of 4 people, 2 dogs, 6 chickens, 2 rats, 1 horse, and 1 fish, we added a six-week-old Corgi-Pitbull mix, whom the girlios promptly dubbed “Kiwi.” Her mother had been killed by a car and the litter of eight needed refuge. We’d never raised a puppy that young, but hey, need is need.

Need has teeth. Little piranha teeth with a fondness for heels and toes. No matter. We wore shoes indoors, and the training began (and I gave up any trip outside the house that would keep me away for more than two hours while we potty-trained, including the gig as a substitute teacher I’d just signed on for to try to make some income). Also, Shiloh liked the puppy immensely. Shiloh’s favorite way of showing how much she likes other dogs involves wrestling and body-slamming. Shiloh weighs 55 pounds. Kiwi weighed 8. The math wasn’t looking great.

Two weeks later, another Corgi mix, a young yellow Corgi-Heeler, was in need of a temporary landing spot. Insanity + insanity still equals insanity, right? So why not? Plus Kiwi could use a smaller buddy to romp with. The girls christened him “Cork,” and home he came.

Cork had never been in a house. Cork was full of puncture wounds from being at the bottom of the pack in his former situation. Cork was intensely nervous around large, energetic dogs whose favorite way of getting to know other dogs involves wrestling and body-slamming. 1 crazy husky-malamute + 1 anxious yellow corgi mix + 1 tiny toothy pit mix + 1 grumpy old husky-shepherd = … yeah, my math was starting to look less and less good.

It was downright pandemonium for a few weeks while everyone figured everyone out. The big dogs chased the little dogs, the little dogs learned through lots (and lots (and lots)) of trial and error where it was ok to pee and what it was ok to chew on, the big dogs figured out how to play with little dogs without crushing them, the humans had to figure out which dogs could be alone with whom where and when through the series of air-lock baby gates that made our house into a labyrinth, some teeth were gnashed, some hair was pulled, and then somehow out of the chaos came a truce, then a balance, then the serious contemplation of foster failing one or both of the newbies. They have become part of our family.

Zuki is the grumpy old grandpa (“darn kids…mutter mutter…”), Shiloh is the wild-child, bad-influence aunt (“hey kids, have you ever chased chickens?” “let’s race! who can tunnel to China the fastest?”), Cork is the anxious teen who wants so desperately both to please and to fit in (“sit? Ok, I’ll sit, yes I’ll sit.” “bark maniacally at the garbage truck? Oh yes, please, I’ll bark maniacally at the garbage truck”), and Kiwi is the head-strong toddler who, now that she knows what the word “no” means, has decided to try it out herself (pick me up? “no.” go outside? “no.”).

It’s not all slurps and snuggles, but it never would be for four dogs from such disparate backgrounds and temperaments, let alone really any four dogs, let alone really any four people of any stripe. Still, it’s impressive to see a pack come together. And to get to be in the midst that process of cohesion, from its maelstrom-madness to nap-time puppy-pile.

Fostering is such a see-saw of an experience, re-configuring the shape of the family, knowing that it’s only temporary, even as we open our hearts permanently. I know, after Cork and Kiwi find their forever homes, I’ll still be looking for them under the bed, assuming that missing sock is getting gleefully aerated, calling their names when the house is too quiet because 90:1 they’re getting up to some mischief or other. And Shiloh will miss her side-kicks, and even Zuki will miss having whippersnappers underfoot, I suspect.

Addition may have been challenging, but subtraction seems just as tough. Weirdly, however, after they go, I think 16 – 2 may still be 16. They brought love, and we gave love, but there is no reduction after they go. Love is a weird kind of math that multiplies exponentially and leaves itself behind even after it moves on elsewhere. It’s a math everyone can do. STEML.

Want to be a part of that love? Look up Kiwi and Cork and their other buddies looking for their forever homes at Laramie Animal Welfare Society.